"Took me forever… but I'm finally here."
My voice cracked as I dragged myself up the last steep stretch of mountainside. My lungs burned, legs trembling like overcooked noodles. Magic may be destined for greatness — but the body using it?
Very mortal.
Wind howled behind me, biting cold sweeping across the rocky path… but then I saw it.
Hogwarts.
Except not quite my Hogwarts — familiar in shape, yet older… darker… infused with Middle-earth's ancient, raw magic. Towers loomed like watchful giants, and great stone walls shimmered faintly beneath the illusion of ruin — the wards cleverly hiding its true power.
I stumbled across the threshold of the great entrance and collapsed on the stone floor.
"Walking… is exhausting," I muttered into the cold ground. "I'm a wizard. I should fly or teleport or… or something…"
Wars were coming — and I could barely handle hiking.
"Note to self," I wheezed. "Train stamina. Don't die to cardio."
An hour later, strength returned enough for me to stagger deeper inside.
The corridors echoed with silence. No portraits shifting. No ghosts floating past with curiosity. Just a castle asleep — waiting.
Waiting for me.
I nearly fell down the stairs.Twice.Maybe three times.
Finally, I stood before the wardstone — a glowing pillar of runic magic nestled deep in the heart of the castle. It pulsed like it recognized my heartbeat.
I reached out.
The world froze.Magic surged through my veins — wild, overwhelming, ancient.
The wards accepted me.
Not as a student.Not as a guest.
As Master of Hogwarts.
Power rippled outward — doors unlocking, hidden barriers dissolving, secrets unfolding. The castle awakened around me like a sleeping dragon opening one great golden eye.
Warmth washed through the halls.
Home.
After the magic settled, hunger for knowledge devoured any lingering exhaustion.
I ran — okay, shuffled — to the one place that mattered more than any treasure:The Library.
Books stretched up toward vaulted ceilings. Some bound in leather, others in scales or enchanted metal. Shelves humming with protective charms. Scrolls sealed with wax older than kingdoms.
I pulled out the most basic textbook I could find:
First-Year Charms — Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1)
Not exactly Merlin-tier… but a start.
I sat, opened the book, and let instinct and talent guide me.
"Wingardium Leviosa."
The feather on the desk wobbled… rose shakily into the air… then spun into the ceiling with a thunk.
I grinned.
"Lumos."
Light blossomed in my palm — brighter, steadier than before.
Spell by spell, page by page, hour by hour… I built a foundation.
No wand.No teachers.No classmates.
Just a castle full of knowledge……and a future full of war.
But for the first time since arriving in Middle-earth…
I felt like I could win.